


Five Times Jaskier Called Geralt Daddy + 1 Time Geralt Called Jaskier Daddy

by ChallengeAcceptedPankratz (CassLikesFic)



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: 5 Things, 5+1 Things, Adults, Aftercare, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, And About Geralt, Consenting Adults, Daddy Kink, Enthusiastic Consent, Established Relationship, Hand Jobs, Inappropriate Use of Warming Balm, Jaskier Kinkshames Himself But Learns It's Okay To Be Into Stuff, Jaskier Learns Some Things About Himself, Kink Discovery, Kink Exploration, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Praise Kink, Roleplay, Safe Sane and Consensual, Sex Toys Under Clothing, Sexual Fantasy, Sexual Roleplay, Virginity Roleplay, authority kink
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-04-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:35:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23439289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CassLikesFic/pseuds/ChallengeAcceptedPankratz
Summary: "Can you believe it, Geralt? The first day of my twentieth whole year." Jaskier was attentively finishing shaving off the barest shadow of stubble, patting his boyish face clean with a soft towel. "Tonight marks the beginning of a new chapter.""Hm.""I feel very wise, with my accumulated wisdom and experience and- why are you snorting? That was an eye roll. You rolled your eyes. Why?""Because you may look twenty, but you act like a brat of ten. You're two sentences away from climbing into my lap, throwing your arms around my neck, and begging me for a puppy in exchange for being good."Geralt raised an eyebrow at the sudden scent of Jaskier's arousal."Or were you going to ask for something else for your birthday, if you were in that position?""Is that an invitation to climb into your lap?""Two years wasn’t enough dancing for you? You want me, I want you." Geralt firmly patted his legs. "Come ask for your present."
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 44
Kudos: 767





	1. Anything For Your Birthday

**Author's Note:**

  * For [badwolfbadwolf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/badwolfbadwolf/gifts).



> Please please please be mindful of the tags and take care of yourself.
> 
> This is two consenting adults, figuring out their kinks and what they like.
> 
> I'm blaming badwolfbadwolf and my going crazy in iso for all of this.
> 
> Thanks to everyone for reading!

"Can you believe it, Geralt? The first day of my twentieth whole year." Jaskier was attentively finishing shaving off the barest shadow of stubble, patting his boyish face clean with a soft towel. "Tonight marks the beginning of a new chapter."

"Hm."

"I feel very wise, with my accumulated wisdom and  _ experience _ and- why are you snorting? That was an eye roll. You rolled your eyes. Why?"

"Because you may look twenty, but you act like a brat of ten. You're two sentences away from climbing into my lap, throwing your arms around my neck, and begging me for a puppy in exchange for being good."

Geralt raised an eyebrow at the sudden scent of Jaskier's arousal.

"Or were you going to ask for something  _ else _ for your birthday, if you were in that position?"

"Is that an invitation to climb into your lap?"

"Two years wasn’t enough dancing for you? You want me, I want you." Geralt firmly patted his legs. "Come ask for your present."

"No, no, it's…" Jaskier made a quiet sound as Geralt tugged him easily down into his lap, the bard's knees straddling his thighs. Geralt tilted his head meaningfully and Jaskier draped his arms softly over Geralt's shoulders. He licked his lips, shifting to try and conceal the obvious press of his cock against his thin breeches. "...well, this is an excellent present already."

"Now, Jaskier." Geralt looked at him eye to eye with a mixture of affection and indulgence. "What would you like for your birthday, my  _ experienced _ friend?"

"...a- hm. A kiss." Jaskier tipped his chin up sweetly in a clear invitation, softly closing his eyes. Instead, Geralt pressed a light, dry kiss to Jaskier's forehead, the corner of his mouth quirking at the bard's rapidly increasing heart rate.

"There you are. Happy birthday."

"Ah, but-" Jaskier opened one eye, blushing furiously.

"No one taught you it's polite to say thank you when you get a present?"

"I- well. I- That. Thank you, Geralt, for my lovely birthday gift. I'll cherish it always. Suppose I'll just get up now." Geralt allowed Jaskier to struggle up awkwardly, trying not to press his obvious erection into Geralt's stomach. When Jaskier had just risen off his lap, Geralt tugged him sharply back down.

"Would you like something else better?" Geralt pressed the outline of his own hard cock against Jaskier's ass, voice warm in his ear. He rolled his hips in an unmistakable movement to make his point.

Jaskier squirmed in Geralt's lap, already flushed to the roots of his hair, and murmured filthy and sweet back in Geralt's ear, "Kiss me properly and make me come with your hand?"

* * *

Geralt’s hand moved rough and fast over Jaskier’s cock, jerking in a brisk rhythm that set his toes curling and soft gasps falling from his lips. This was certainly the best birthday present he’d ever had, and he had 19 other birthdays to choose from. Whatever Geralt was using for slick around Jaskier’s red and eager prick was slippery and delicious, the friction from his sword callouses rasping over and over the head bringing him right to the edge.

“Oh gods, oh gods, that is so much better than- oh,  _ fucking gods Geralt don’t stop-” _

“Wasn’t planning on it.” Geralt huffed a laugh, pressing a warm kiss to Jaskier’s temple, the bard cradled in his lap, legs splayed out over his wide thighs. “Relax. Just enjoy.”

“Mmf-”

“Feel good?”

“Yes- yes- yes-  _ fuck- _ ”

“Gonna come, bard?”

“Close, close-”

“Come for me, Jaskier-”

“Oh, fuck,  _ yes Daddy- _ ” Jaskier threw his head back and went rigid in Geralt’s arms through a truly spectacular climax. The afterglow lasted all of twelve seconds while his fuzzy brain registered what had just slipped out of his mouth, and he froze in absolute horror. Maybe if he stayed still enough, the Witcher wouldn’t have heard it. 

“...Jaskier?”

_ Fuck. _

“...mhm?” Jaskier didn’t open his eyes, trying to pretend the spike of adrenaline was just a post-orgasmic shiver.

“What did you just call me?” Geralt’s tone was soft and stern, and Jaskier was mortified by the way his dick twitched in Geralt’s grip in response to it. He shuddered truly that time from the unbidden pulse of pleasure.

“Nothing- I mean- I don’t think of you like- I wasn’t thinking of my- The way you were talking- It just slipped out-” Jaskier buried his face in both hands and groaned softly. “Oh you must think I’m a  _ rare _ tangled skein, just let me get my pants on and I'll go.”

“Go where, exactly?” Geralt's clean hand tightened on Jaskier's hip.

“...you don’t- want me to- You liked it?”

“Didn’t say I didn’t.”

“... _ what?! _ ”

“You’re not the first one who’s called me that.” Geralt nosed at the sensitive spot beneath Jaskier’s jaw, his hand still wrapped firmly around Jaskier’s softening cock.

“...well it’s bloody well the first time I’ve ever called anyone that! I don’t even call my own  _ father _ that and- oh I do not want to think of him right now, what is  _ wrong _ with me. I can’t believe that came out of my mouth.”

“So? You like a firm hand by someone you trust. You like feeling safe, with someone you care about.” Geralt pressed heated kisses along the tempting white column of Jaskier’s neck. His fingers trailed through the dark hair covering Jaskier's chest. “We’re both adults, and we want each other. How we want each other is our business, if we don’t hurt anyone else.” Geralt’s voice was low, soothing without being coaxing.

“...right.” Jaskier bit back a groan as rough fingers pinched and teased at his nipple.

“If you’re not comfortable with any part of it, I’ll drop it right now. We never speak of it again. But there’s nothing wrong with you for liking that feeling.” Geralt gave Jaskier's rapidly hardening cock a firm squeeze.

“...there’s not?”

“No, Jaskier.” Another soft, gentle kiss, just over Jaskier’s pulse as it leapt at Geralt’s tone. “Think you can go again for me? It’s  _ your  _ birthday, after all. I'm sure you can think of lots of other presents you'd like.” Geralt squeezed again, letting his fingers linger.

“Ohh gods.”

“Or would you like me to take care of you, clean you up, put you to bed?”

"Fuck, Geralt…"

"As long as you ask me nicely, you can have anything you want."


	2. Second First Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feelings? In MY daddy kink smut? It's more likely than you think.

Jaskier shifted face down on Geralt’s lap, his bare ass up in the air with his breeches tugged down to his knees. His doublet and chemise were bunched up by his armpits, and he had a vague moment of worry for the wrinkles that would be left. That worry quickly vanished at Geralt’s fingers slowly drifting over the small of his back, trailing up and down his spine.

“How do you feel?” He asked quietly, resting a hand on Jaskier’s hip. His thumb moved in slow, soothing circles.

“A bit awkward and exposed.” Jaskier huffed out a soft laugh. “Like I’m about to get a spanking for doing something wrong.”

“You’re not doing anything wrong, and  _ spanking  _ is a conversation for later. It’s all right. If you’re not comfortable like this, get up, we’ll go with what we both already know we like.” Geralt bent over him to press a warm kiss to the nape of his neck, and Jaskier shifted slightly, his breath catching. 

“...no, I didn’t say I didn’t- I- I like that it feels awkward. Makes me feel like I’ve never done this before.” Jaskier could feel his prick trapped tightly between Geralt’s clothed thighs. It jumped eagerly at the thought.

“After, what- four years of doing this together with me? And with everyone else we’ve met along the way.” There was a soft knowing chuckle. “You want someone to teach you?”

Geralt was right. Neither of them were particularly possessive, and they both appreciated the novelty of new partners and the stories that went with them. Jaskier had grown far more practiced than he was when he first approached Geralt with an eager grin in Posada. Somehow they always found themselves back in each other’s arms, eager and easy together.

“Yes,” Jaskier admitted with a wry smile, glancing back at Geralt to see his reaction. Geralt was, as always, comfortable, pleased. Mildly amused at Jaskier’s struggle to articulate the things he wanted and why he wanted them the way he did. “...a master craftsman never stops learning, after all-”

“You can have anything you want.” Those words had taken on heady meaning and significance. In the four years they’d been together, Jaskier hadn’t let  _ that _ particular word slip out from between his clenched teeth again. But Geralt was intimately familiar now with which words, tone, and phrases sent that particular hot spike straight to his gut, and wielded them proficiently as any other weapon.

“ _ Geralt- _ ” Geralt’s thumb traced the curve of one cheek, brushing idly where Jaskier’s ass met his thigh. That spot often held a faint imprint of Geralt’s teeth, and Jaskier shifted into the touch. 

“You just have to ask nicely.” Geralt’s tone grew firmer, but also more tender. Indulgent, again. As though Jaskier was untouched and blushing and _Geralt's_ alone-

“...I want you to have been the first-  _ please _ ?”

“Then tonight, I will be.” Another careful fingertip, patiently brushing the very top of his cleft, making Jaskier’s skin prickle up in goosebumps.

“ _ Fuck _ -”

“Just ask, Jaskier.”

“...teach me how to...take you. Please.”

“With you over my lap, like this?”

“Um.” Jaskier’s face grew hotter, and he dropped his gaze from Geralt’s intent eyes to the bedclothes. “Yes, but if- If it’s too much-” He wasn’t referring to the physicality of the act. There was something about this particular game that sometimes left him feeling raw on the inside. Open and vulnerable, as though he was placing far more than his body in Geralt’s capable hands, trusting him with it. Geralt had never abused that power, or hurt him. But the sheer potential of that trust was sometimes enough to overwhelm him and make him beg to stop, be held. Simply comforted, that what he wanted was safe and appreciated and...good. 

“I’ll take care of you. Stay here with me.” Geralt’s fingers moved slowly through his hair, resting at the nape of his neck. They felt gentle. Grounding. Jaskier took a deep breath, letting his pounding heart slow. Exhaled quietly. This was safe. This was wanted.

“Yes. All right.” He nodded, swallowing, and shifted on Geralt’s lap. ”Please.” He asked again, because Geralt appreciated the word, and they were sharing this with each other, after all.

“I’m going to ask you before I do anything.” Geralt murmured quietly, his hand running over Jaskier’s shoulders, gently petting. “No surprises. This won’t hurt. You want more, ask. If you don’t like it, we stop. Simple as that.” 

Jaskier exhaled softly in response and nodded again. Stop always meant stop.

“So sweet like this, aren’t you?” Geralt asked with a fond smile. “You’re going to be good for me and tell me if anything’s too much.”

“Yes-” Jaskier breathed, shifting again.

“You’re so slick already. I can feel you getting wet against my thigh, sweet boy.” 

“I- oh-” 

“That’s good. You’re showing me how much you like this. That’s just what I want.” Jaskier made a low sound, unbidden, and caught his bottom teeth between his lip. Geralt gently rested a hand on Jaskier’s ass, squeezed firmly. Murmured gently, “I’m just going to take a look.” 

“Oh gods,” Jaskier whispered quietly, feeling his heart pounding in his throat.

“Is it all right if I look?” Geralt murmured, sweet and dark, his thumb teasing again slowly back and forth along Jaskier’s cleft. 

“Yeah- yes. Good.” Jaskier licked his lips, taking another shaky breath, then groaned low when Geralt’s hands carefully spread him apart.

“There. Just looking. Just taking a look at your pretty little hole.”

“Fuck, that’s  _ filthy- _ ” Jaskier whispered appreciatively, trying to fight the impulse to squirm under Geralt’s gaze.

“You had a bath. You’re nice and clean for me.” Jaskier jerked at the loving tone in the words, and Geralt’s deliberate misinterpretation at his meaning. “Shh. There’s no part of you I don’t like looking at.” 

Jaskier moaned softly and closed his eyes, trying not to shift away from Geralt’s hands. He could feel that look like a touch.

“I’m going to touch you now. Just a little.” 

“Fuck,  _ please- _ ”

“I’ll be careful.” Geralt’s gentle reassurance was the filthiest thing Jaskier had heard. Particularly considering that this idea had been discussed when Jaskier had been weak kneed and languid the night before. The idea had slipped from his mouth after an enthusiastic round of sex, ending with three rough fingers working Geralt’s come back into Jaskier’s ass with Geralt’s talented lips wrapped tight around his cock. But he was soothing Jaskier as though no one had ever touched him with as much as their eyes, and that thought sent tingling heat through every part of his body. 

Geralt’s fingers rested ever so lightly against his entrance, gently smoothing the fine hair down before caressing over his hole. Jaskier sucked in a sharp breath, his legs beginning to tremble at the feather light touch.

“How’s that feel? Good?”

“ _ Yes- _ ”

“Good. That’s perfect. Want you to feel good.” Good was not the word for that careful, slow caress, circling and petting without any pressure. Any indication that anything more was needed. There was no urgency behind that touch, and there wouldn't be until...

“I need- can- will you-” Jaskier swallowed thickly, managing to get out the words.

“Just ask.” Geralt chided gently, just resting the tip of his finger against Jaskier’s entrance. “That’s all you have to do.”

“More, please-”

“Do you want my finger inside you?” He pressed very lightly. “Do you think that would feel good?” 

“Geralt, yes- please-” Jaskier’s voice cracked, and he shivered all over, dropping his head and closing his eyes with a soft exhale. Geralt would keep asking until he finally put the words together. He knew that. “...please, I want to- I want to know what your fingers feel like. In me. Please.”

“I need to get up and get the slick.” Geralt said, his tone deeply pleased and approving. “So it’s nice and easy for you to take them.” Jaskier shifted his hips, then colored deeply when he realized there was no way to get out of the position he was splayed out in without fully exposing the state he was in. He slipped off Geralt’s lap with as much grace as he could manage, settling on the bed with a soft exhale, keeping his hands on his knees. 

“Thank you.” He said quietly, his face burning as his cock bobbed eagerly against his stomach. Geralt cupped the back of his neck and kissed Jaskier’s forehead tenderly, the gentle affection sending warmth melting through the bard’s body. “For looking after me.” 

“Of course, sweet boy. Don’t pull your pants up, and keep your hands right there. I’ll be right back.”

“It’s- I won’t last on my stomach like that.” Jaskier blurted out abruptly, the moment Geralt returned with a small jar and a clean cloth. “I’ll- your pants.” His face grows hotter. “I don’t want to make a mess of your pants.”

"All right." Geralt agreed quietly, rewarding Jaskier with a slow, thorough kiss that left him panting raggedly. "I'll lay the cloth down on the bed. Just stay there. Close your eyes and breathe for me. You're being so good."

"Geralt, I-"

"I know."

Jaskier closed his eyes and steadied his ragged breathing, feeling his own pulse heavy on his tongue. They'd done so much more than this, but he was shivering and near the edge already just thanks to the lightest touches and softest words.

"Come lay down for me." Geralt's hands were already guiding Jaskier into place, his hips raised on a cloth covered pillow like he was a virgin on his wedding night.

"...Geralt I don't think I'm going to last for-"

"Just relax. You don't have to take my cock tonight. I'll play with your sweet hole until you come apart for me. You don't have to take more. Love seeing you come for me."

"I can't, I can’t-" Jaskier murmured feverishly, pressing his forehead against the blankets, rubbing the head of his leaking cock against the rougher linen covering the pillow. "Please, just-"

"What do you need?" 

"I need to  _ come  _ with your fingers in me-"

"You're so eager." Jaskier pressed his face tighter against the blankets, his hands gripping the cloth tightly. "This will feel a little cold." 

Jaskier liked to think he wasn't the sort of man who made a habit of whimpering, but the careful touch of a cold, well greased fingertip wrested that control out of his hands. It slowly pressed in, just the very tip. Practiced muscles yielded easily, that barest tease driving him mad. Geralt's other hand pressed down on the small of his back, holding him firmly in place-

"Please, please-" He panted, arching his back. "I want it, more,  _ please _ Daddy, make me  _ come- _ " swept up in desperation, Jaskier barely noticed the word dropping from his lips, completely focused on the slow, easy stretch as Geralt's finger slid deeper inside.

"There you go." He murmured soothingly, voice suddenly full of heat mingled with that coaxing tone. "There, that feels better doesn't it?" He adjusted the angle of his finger, pressing in and  _ there- _

"Oh fuck, Daddy thank you, fuck-" Jaskier's words broke into sharp, panting growls as he fucked himself back on Geralt's finger, too far gone for anything but urgent need. 

"You want my hand on your cock too, little love, or you just going to fuck yourself on my fingers until you-"

"Oh fuck oh  _ fucking gods-"  _ Jaskier made a broken, helpless sound and spent messily over the waiting cloth, his face and neck burning.

"You did so well."

"Fuck- I want-"

"Next time. You need practice so you won't be so sensitive. I love how you got so worked up over just one of my fingers, my sweet boy-"

“Fuck, stopstopstop-” Jaskier gasped out, oversensitive and self conscious, pressing his face into the sheets with a quiet groan.

“Okay.” Geralt agreed instantly, his tone back to it’s usual rough burr. “You want it out or-”

“Uh-” Jaskier panted, taking a deep, shaking breath. “Just for now, please. Without the- the voice. It’s too much right now.” Jaskier shuddered at the withdrawal, feeling open and empty in a way that had nothing to do with a single finger briefly inside him.

“There. Clean you up?” 

“Yeah.” Jaskier said weakly, his eyes still closed. He made a soft, ragged sound at the cool touch of a clean cloth on his ass, wiping away all traces of the slick. 

“Gonna roll you over.”

“Okay.” Geralt moved him carefully, his touch firm on Jaskier’s hips and back as he lifted him, moved the pillow and tossed the soiled cloth to the side after wiping his hands off. Jaskier’s stomach was a sticky mess and he groaned quietly, covering his eyes with his forearm. 

“I’ll be right back.” Geralt said, and a moment later, his weight made the bed dip again. A warm, damp cloth slowly stroked the mess away. Jaskier lifted his hips with a small sound at the touch of the cloth pressed gently against his hole. “Better?”

“Yeah, thanks.” Jaskier sighed, wetting dry lips. “Can you…”

“I’m right here.” Geralt settled in on the bed, wrapping his arms snugly around Jaskier and pulling him close, kissing him gently before tucking Jaskier’s head in under his chin. 

“Sorry, I’m sorry-”

“You don’t have to be.”

“It’s not real.” Jaskier blurted out, his face growing hotter. “That’s- you don’t feel like that all the time. And it feels wrong that I like it so much when you pretend you do.” Geralt went still, but continued to hold Jaskier, taking in a deep breath and letting it out slowly.

“What don’t you think I feel?” 

“Like I’m worth all the trouble. When you act...protective. Tender. Caring. L-” He paused on the word, then swallowed and said quietly. “Loving. I feel loved when you do that.”

“I’m not pretending.”

“...what?”

“I’m not good at putting it into words. But when we do that. I’m not pretending. I do.”

“Oh.”

“ _ Jaskier _ .” Geralt’s fingers gently raised his face, their eyes meeting for a long moment. “I enjoy it  _ because  _ I love you. I play those games because I love seeing you feel safe, trusting me to care for you. It’s not pretend. I don’t pretend to care about people.”

“Oh.” Jaskier repeated, much softer, then nodded. “I love you too.” 

“I know. But I’m glad you were brave enough to tell me.” Geralt touched their foreheads together, breathing deeply. “We don’t have to- if you were just asking for that so you could feel-”

“Oh, gods, no. I really...I _really_ like that. Wish we did it more.” Jaskier added with a deeper flush, shifting his hips against Geralt’s.

“Feeling better, then?”

“ _ Much _ better.” Jaskier affirmed, pressing closer.

“Are you feeling up to that conversation about spanking, then?” Geralt asked, nipping at Jaskier’s throat with a lazy grin. 


	3. A Lesson In Patience

Geralt found a table in the inn’s tavern, far enough in the corner that he could see the whole room easily. Jaskier was not paying attention to their surroundings, distracted and slightly flushed. He shifted from foot to foot, hands fidgeting nervously over the buttons of his doublet and playing over the rich brocade. 

“Come sit.” Geralt said firmly, patting the bench next to himself. “Right here.” 

“Right. Good, yeah, good.” Jaskier said quietly, eyeing the bench and then sitting gingerly with a sharp inhale. He was silent for a moment, his fingertips drumming on the wood. “Great, let’s go.” 

“I’d like to hear the music and have a drink.” Geralt continued placidly. “Unless…”

“No, that’s fine. Music is. Fine.” Jaskier managed to say quietly, his face growing hotter. He shifted in his seat, watching the fiddler and piper playing familiar reels next to the bar without hearing them. Geralt’s hand pressed on his hip under the table, forcing the bard firmly down into his seat. Jaskier made a quiet noise behind clenched teeth.

“Good. I know you like music. You deserve a quiet evening with the things you like.” Geralt’s hand kept him in place, his hips pressed firmly into the hard wood of the bench. Jaskier had begun to sweat under his clothes, his forehead slightly damp with perspiration. “Hungry?”

“ _ Fuck no _ .” Jaskier gritted out, shaking his head sharply.

“Manners.” Geralt responded evenly. His hand squeezed Jaskier’s hip tightly. Jaskier took a shaking breath and composed himself, exhaling slowly.

“...no, thank you, Geralt. I’m not hungry at the moment.”

“Something to drink, then?” Geralt laced his fingers together, resting his hands on the top of the table. Without the hand keeping him in place, it was up to Jaskier to resist the urge to shift, to squirm like a bored child.

“Yes, please.” Jaskier swallowed thickly and studied the smooth wood table with interest, his fingers beginning their restless beat again. “Wine?”

“Hm.” Geralt tilted his head, studying Jaskier. “Half a glass, and well watered.”

“....yes, all right.”

“What was that?”

“Yes, thank you. I would like wine, please.” Jaskier said quietly, his face burning. Geralt seemed in no hurry to flag down the  _ oh hell, of course she was,  _ very attractive server. When she arrived, Jaskier kept his hands neatly folded on the table, focusing on steadying his breathing.

“Evening, gentlemen. What’s your pleasure?” She leaned forward, one hand on her hip. Geralt looked at Jaskier, expression mild as he raised his eyebrows.

“Jaskier?” The bard shook his head quickly, pressing his lips tightly together.

“Shy boy.” She commented with a smirk. Jaskier’s face flushed and he dropped his gaze back down to the table, shifting in his seat.

“Sometimes.” Geralt commented with a lazy smirk. “Pint of stout for me, please. A small pour of red, an empty glass, and a pitcher of water as well.” 

“Young as he looks, then?”

“Mm. And poor company when he drinks. Keeping an eye on him.”

“Anything else you’ll need?” 

“No, thank you. Take your time, we’re in no rush.”

Jaskier waited until she walked away, watching the sway of her hips under her skirts and whispering quietly under his breath, “Geralt, please-”

Geralt took one of Jaskier’s hands gently, giving it a soft squeeze. “If you don’t like it, go upstairs and I’ll follow. We can stop whenever you’re tired of it.” 

“...I’m not- I’m just-”

“Being patient for me. Being good.” He murmured softly. His thumb brushed the back of Jaskier’s wrist lightly, and Jaskier shivered with a quiet sigh. “We’ll finish our drink, listen to one set, and then we’ll be back upstairs and finish your lesson. In private.”

Jaskiers shoulders eased as he nodded, and he took a slow, shaking breath. The corner of Geralt’s mouth twitched up into a knowing smirk. 

“And sit still.” His hand fisted in the back of Jaskier’s doublet and tugged him down, hard, Jaskier’s thighs and backside flush with the wood. Jaskier closed his eyes with a shuddering breath. 

“...but it- please-”

“Are you in pain?”

“...no.”

“Do you want to stop and go upstairs?”

“No.”

“Then sit still, and wait. And keep your hands still.”

* * *

“What do you think about…another lesson?” Jaskier asked languidly, his fingers drifting along a scar on Geralt’s collarbone. 

“Hm. What sort of lesson did you have in mind?” Geralt wrapped an arm around Jaskier’s shoulders, batting his hand idly away. “You liked learning to suck cock.” He pressed his thumb firmly against Jaskier’s bottom lip.

“I already knew that one.” Jaskier huffed with a laugh, dragging his tongue over the pad of Geralt's thumb.

“Weren’t you the one who said a master never stops learning?” Geralt asked with a quiet chuckle. He pushed his thumb between Jaskier’s lips, watching his eyes flutter closed. “You do take to your lessons beautifully.”

“Fuck, thank you.” Jaskier murmured around the thumb in his mouth, before opening one eye and giving Geralt's thumb a playful nip with his teeth. “Something you think I could improve upon, truly.” 

“Hm. I’ll think on it. Do you want me to tell you, or just surprise you with the lesson?”

“Oh. I think I’d like to be surprised. And if I-if it’s-” Jaskier colored, already feeling that twisting knit of heat low in his stomach.

“It’s for your benefit, sweet boy. If you don’t like it, you say stop, and I stop.” Geralt cupped Jaskier's chin in his hand, time gentle and low. His lips stopped just short of Jaskier's.

“ _ Gods _ . Shut up and fuck me.” Jaskier groaned, surging forward to capture Geralt's mouth.

Geralt returned to their rooms the next evening with a cloth bag and a warm but stern look for Jaskier.

“Tonight’s lesson is about  _ patience. _ ” He said softly, velvet and steel in his voice.

* * *

The server came back with their drinks, watching with a fond quirk of her mouth at Jaskier’s quietly murmured thanks when Geralt watered Jaskier’s wine to a pale pink and handed him the cup, before taking a sip of his own dark beer.

"Make it last." He said simply. "I'm not fucking you if you're drunk, little lark."

Jaskier took a small sip, closing his eyes and pressing his legs tightly together. He startled at the sound of Geralt's voice, low and dark in his ear. "I can smell what you're doing, sweet boy. I thought I told you to  _ sit still.  _ Not rock your hips like you're begging your chair to fuck you."

"I-I'm sorry, it just-"

"Shh. Sit still." Geralt's firm hand pressed on Jaskier's knee, guiding his legs apart. "Just wait for me."

"I'm  _ trying-" _

"Jaskier." Geralt's tone was firm, unyielding. Jaskier grew still except for the fine trembling of his cup in his hands. "I won't be angry if you can't sit still for the music."

"I'm trying, I am-" Jaskier whispered, heat creeping up his neck. Geralt reached out, stroking his fingers over the hollow of Jaskier's throat under the guise of adjusting his collar.

"But I will be a bit disappointed you couldn't wait for me to take care of you."

Jaskier groaned behind his teeth, nodded, and forced his hips as still as he could make them.

* * *

Geralt stripped Jaskier's clothes off with surprising efficiency, given the letter of the lesson. When Jaskier was bare before him he was rewarded with a long series of slow, softly melting kisses that had Jaskier’s fists tight in the front of Geralt’s shirt. Geralt guided Jaskier’s hands away, then pushed him towards the bed and tossed a small tin at him. Jaskier grabbed and opened it, then looked at Geralt with confusion.

“Get yourself ready.” Geralt said softly, his eyes intent on Jaskier’s face. “ _ Quickly. _ ”

“I- ah- I thought this was a lesson in patience-” 

“ _ Your _ patience, spoiled boy.” Geralt said with a smirk. “Not mine. Now show me how well you’ve learned and get that pretty little hole open for my cock.”

“Gods,  _ fucking hell, _ Geralt-” Jaskier groaned, slicking his fingers liberally and struggling to close the tin one handed. His cock was already firm and aching between his legs at the thought of Geralt being  _ impatient _ during this sort of game, but when he reached for it, Geralt was quicker.

“Don’t touch.”

“Wha-”

“I’m going to fuck you, little lark. I’m going to fuck you fast and hard, and I’m going to come. And you’re not. You. Are going to learn. How to  _ wait _ for what you want.” Geralt’s look was heated and intent, and then he smiled indulgently. “And you’ll be so good for me, won’t you?”

“That’s all I want.” Jaskier moaned, not bothering to tease himself open. He exhaled sharply, pressing two fingers inside himself, squirming at the familiar sensation of his body opening. “I just want to be good for you, I’m- I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be impatient, I just always want you so much-” He was rambling as he fucked himself open greedily on slick fingers, his breath catching.

Geralt was at his side, lips pressed tenderly to his forehead, warm fingers moving tenderly through the dark hair on his chest. “You haven’t done anything wrong.” He soothed, his fingers lightly circling Jaskier’s wrist and guiding Jaskier’s fingers deeper. “You’re perfect for me. So eager, so sweet. Always so ready for me. I’m not punishing you, sweet boy, I’m giving you a present. If you can wait, I’m going to make you see how very,  _ very  _ good waiting can feel.”

“Geralt-” Jaskier groaned roughly, his voice sharp and dark as Geralt tugged on his wrist, feeling his muscles open and ready as his fingers slipped free. “Fuck me, gods, please-”

“You’re always so ready for me, aren’t you?” Geralt asked, grabbing a clean cloth off the small table next to the bed and roughly wiping Jaskier’s fingers clean of the extra slick. Geralt slowly unbuttoned his fly, taking out his own more than eager cock. He took the time to apply a liberal amount of the tin’s contents to himself, then closed and tossed it aside. He roughly hoisted one of Jaskier’s legs up onto his shoulder, kneeling on the edge of the bed and then pressing in with one smooth, long thrust.

“Oh,  _ fuck- _ ”

“Watch your mouth.” Geralt said, full of warmth and affection. “You open up so perfectly for me, don’t you? Always want this. Want to show me how good you can be?” Jaskier arched his back, crying out hoarsely at the first rough thrust. Geralt’s pace shifted, changed, his thrusts short and shallow and rubbing quickly, chasing only his own pleasure. “Just a- hf. Just a quick little dance.” Jaskier could hear the eagerness in Geralt’s voice, and there was something deeply thrilling about knowing that he was bringing Geralt to the edge so quickly. 

Geralt was certainly not unfeeling or made of stone, but the man had a deep well of patience that often seemed untouchable. Watching the Witcher chase his own pleasure with such single minded focus was nearly enough, nearly- 

“Don’t.” Geralt growled low, swatting Jaskier’s hand away from his own cock. “Trust me. You’ll like it better.” Jaskier’s head fell back against the mattress with a low growl of his own, and he kept his eyes on Geralt’s face even when the Witcher let his own fall closed, his thrusts growing sharp and erratic. Geralt buried his cock in deep with a sharp moan, sending a jolt of pleasure through Jaskier’s body that was almost, almost enough. Geralt sighed deeply and pressed a tender kiss to Jaskier’s forehead. “Just stay there. Hold that in for me.” 

“...god that is so-”

“Shh. Be good for me.” Geralt took Jaskier’s chin in his hand and kissed him gently as he withdrew. “I’ll be back in a moment.” 

When Geralt returned with the small bag, Jaskier was still achingly hard, his cock slick and leaking. His hands were fisted into the covers on either side, and he couldn’t help the small, rocking movements against the air. 

“Please-” Jaskier muttered, his skin damp with sweat. “Geralt, please-”

“Shh. You’re learning about patience, aren’t you?”

“Y-yes-” Jaskier groaned loudly when Geralt’s fingertips just brushed his neglected cock, then cried out as something thick and blunt pressed against his entrance.

“Nothing you haven’t taken before. Just breathe.” Jaskier exhaled a shaking breath as the familiar wooden toy pushed inside him, his hole clenching tightly around the narrower base. “Now. Before you get dressed, here are the rules for this lesson.” Jaskier wetted his lips, his eyes falling closed. He was so  _ full _ , gods, he could just- nearly- “ _ Jaskier. _ Are you listening?”

“I am, I am-” Jaskier panted, opening his eyes and forcing himself to focus on Geralt’s face. “Rules. Tell me, please.”

“You’re going to get dressed, and come downstairs with me. You’re going to sit still, and wait. No one downstairs agreed to be our audience, so you’re going to keep tight control of yourself. If you feel like you’re about to look anything more than too warm, bored and restless, you go straight upstairs and wait for me here.” 

“Yes.”

“You don’t have to talk to, or look at anyone but me. All you have to do is sit next to me and wait until I decide it’s time to come back up here. Understand?”

“Yes.”

“You say stop-”

“It stops.” 

“Good.”

Jaskier wet his lips and sat up with a low sound. “...if I have to come up sooner than you wanted me to-”

“You’ll still have been very, very good for me.”

“Right.” Jaskier managed, slowly pulling on his clothing.

* * *

By the time the musicians had finished, Jaskier had finished his wine and was sitting with his eyes closed, cheek pressed against Geralt’s shoulder. He forced himself to breathe slowly and evenly, despite the burning need that was occupying every pore of his skin. His ass throbbed around the toy, and all he could think about was being  _ good _ ,  _ waiting _ , staying  _ still _ .

“Jaskier?” Geralt’s voice was tender and quiet. His fingers slowly brushed damp hair off Jaskier’s forehead. “Jaskier.”

“Mm.” Jaskier didn’t open his eyes, inhaling the scent of Geralt’s sweat through his shirt.

“It’s time to go upstairs.”

“Mm?”

“Music’s done. You need to get up and go upstairs now.”

“Can’t.” Jaskier mumbled stubbornly. He’d finally found a way to be comfortable, sit still, and be good, and his foggy brain wasn’t processing that  _ upstairs _ would be far better than resting against Geralt’s side at the table.

“Yes you can.” Geralt chuckled softly. “Up you get.” Geralt brought his mouth close to Jaskier’s ear, voice low and sweet. “You’ve been so very good. And you want your present, don’t you?”

“Yes.” Jaskier opened his eyes slowly, shifted and had to bite his bottom lip sharply to stifle the sudden, surprised cry at the coil of heat that went through his entire body at that small movement. 

“Good. Just stand up. No one will see.” 

Jaskier got to his feet unsteadily, fingers tight on the wood of the table. To any outsider, he looked drunk - flushed from the small glass of wine, sweating, and quite probably deciding whether or not to be sick. Only Geralt’s eyes saw the truth behind his movements and manner, and they were deeply satisfied and approving.

Geralt followed Jaskier, steadying him with a hand on the back of his neck. Pausing without comment each time Jaskier had to stop and brace himself against the wall, panting for air as though he was running a race. He occasionally murmured encouragement. “Six more stairs.” Then, “Three more doors. We’re at the end.” When they got to their doorway, Jaskier’s knees buckled and Geralt slipped a strong arm around his waist, carrying him the rest of the way to the bed.

“Just like that.” He purred against Jaskier’s hair. “See how good it feels when you wait?” 

“Yes.” Jaskier managed, unable to beg for relief.

“I’m going to help you out of your clothes. Then you’re going to get on the bed on your hands and knees. All right?” 

“Fine, yes.” He whispered feverishly, his mind no longer able to register that this was a game, and he had a part to play. He simply trusted, and would do whatever Geralt asked.

“Good. My good little lark.” Geralt’s hands moved slowly over Jaskier’s doublet, unlacing it and setting it aside with care. He knelt and removed the bard’s boots carefully, cupping his calf against his palm as he eased the tight leather down. Stockings and smallclothes followed until Jaskier was left only in his undershirt, the embroidered garment doing nothing to hide the eager press of his cock through the filmy fabric. “Lay down and watch me, first.”

Geralt stripped his own clothing off slowly, rolling his shoulders and making it into a show for Jaskier, who watched with heavy lidded eyes. His pupils were dilated, lips bitten deep berry red, and his cheeks flushed, but he showed no impatience or frustration.

“Gods, you are so beautiful.” Jaskier murmured, his voice low and heated. “So, so beautiful, and I get to be yours.”

“Mine.” Geralt growled, crawling onto the bed and holding himself above Jaskier, biting sharply at his bottom lip. “Do you want help being quiet?” 

“Fuck-” Jaskier breathed against his mouth, nodding. “I’m gonna scream when you get inside me otherwise.” 

“Turn over.” Geralt licked into Jaskier’s mouth, fucking his lips slowly with his tongue. “If you want to stop and can’t say-”

“Tap your arm, twice.” Jaskier groaned. “Please, please-”

“Please  _ what? _ ” Geralt’s hands were rough on Jaskier’s hips, flipping him sharply onto his stomach. Jaskier cried out as his oversensitive cock brushed the bedcovers. 

“Please _ , Daddy- _ ” Jaskier ground out, his voice low and dark, a desperate man’s cry. One of Geralt’s large hands clamped down over Jaskier’s mouth, leaving his nose free. Jaskier sucked in desperate breaths as Geralt shifted and then removed the toy, his fingers dragging through the slick mess.

“I love hearing you sing.” Geralt murmured against the back of Jaskier’s neck. “Love hearing all those sweet little sounds that are just for me. But they’re just for me tonight. You’d wake the whole inn screaming for my cock if I let you, wouldn’t you?”

Jaskier’s eager response was muffled and hot against Geralt’s palm.

“Shh. I have you. I have you. There-” Geralt pressed into Jaskier’s slick and waiting body with a grateful groan, rolling his hips slowly until he was seated deeply. Jaskier shuddered, oversensitive and needy, the pleasure bordering on pain. “Just gonna stay here, and you take what you need. You were so good- so fucking good-”

Jaskier rocked back slowly, each stroke lighting up his nerves with brilliant fire. He panted wetly against Geralt’s palm, a low, hungry sound accompanying each movement. His cries quickly grew frantic, shuddering over and over as the pleasure built, built,and crested, leaving him wrung out and trembling. He came with a sharp, muffled snarl, his eyes squeezed tight and hips snapping back into Geralt’s, who followed shortly after.

They both lay together, breathing raggedly and slick with sweat. Jaskier pressed his lips softly against Geralt’s palm, and Geralt removed his hand, wrapping his arms around Jaskier’s waist and chest and rolling them both gently onto their sides. “Good?” Geralt asked with a soft smile against Jaskier’s hair.

“Gods. Very, very good.” Jaskier managed a breathless laugh, settling into Geralt’s arms with a content sigh. “You were right. Waiting has its own...it’s...yeah, it’s good.”

“Tested my own patience,” Geralt hummed against the nape of Jaskier’s neck, inhaling deeply. “I was about to pretend that you were too drunk, toss you over my shoulder and take you immediately back upstairs.”

“We’d have missed the music,  _ Daddy _ .” Jaskier teased, his eyes falling closed.

“No one makes music like you do, little lark. No one at all.” Geralt slowly moved his hand over Jaskier’s chest with a content smile.


	4. Finishing What You Start

“Gods, I want to fuck you.” Jaskier breathed against the back of Geralt’s neck, his hands sliding over Geralt’s broad shoulders. The cinnamon balm was warm and tingling against his palms, and he nudged Geralt’s thighs apart with his knee. Jaskier rocked his thigh against Geralt, savoring the deep, rumbled groan.

“Not with that balm, you’re not. Feels nice and warm skin to skin, but burns too much for my tastes anywhere else. You might enjoy it, though.” Geralt chuckled and closed his eyes, enjoying Jaskier’s strong fingers working the knots out of sore muscles.

“I liked it the last time you used it. And the time before.” Geralt hummed in agreement.

“Mm, I remember those sweet little noises you made. You’re the one who started the massage. Finish it, wash your hands thoroughly,  _ then  _ fuck me.” Jaskier made a soft sound in assent. He worked his thumbs in slow, firm circles at the small of Geralt’s back, relishing the groan it earned him. 

“Just love the sounds you make. Like you can’t believe how pleased you are.” The corner of his mouth twitched up in a wry smile when Geralt’s hips shifted back against his touch. “And the way you  _ growl _ when I hit just the right spot.”

“You do your own share of growling, bard.” Geralt huffed a laugh, glancing at Jaskier over his shoulder. He raised an eyebrow at the expression on Jaskier’s face. “Hm. What are you thinking?”

Jaskier’s shining fingers brushed lightly over the curve of Geralt’s ass, his expression thoughtful but neutral. “...nothing in particular.”

“Don’t play coy. We’ve been doing this long enough, you know what you need to do if you want something.” Geralt rolled over onto his back, tugging Jaskier on top of him by his wrists. “What sort of lesson do you want, then?”

“Ah- well-” Jaskier flushed and grinned slowly, rolling his hips languidly in a suggestive, filthy motion. “Don’t suppose you’d like to teach me how to  _ fuck _ ?” Geralt reached up, sliding his fingers into Jaskier’s hair, close to his scalp. He made a tight fist and tugged back, exposing the line of Jaskier’s throat, keeping his wrists firmly gripped one-handed.

“How do you ask if you want to play that game, little lark?”

“Fuck- Geralt-” Jaskier groaned, his hips stilling. “Nicely. I ask nicely.  _ Please _ .”

“Please what?”

“Teach me how to fuck you just the way you like it,  _ Daddy _ .” 

“See?” Geralt said quietly, kissing him tenderly and releasing his grip. “Wasn’t so bad, was it? Go wash your hands, you spoiled brat. I can tell I’m not getting the rest of my massage.”

“I’m nearly thirty five. When are you going to stop calling me a spoiled brat?” Jaskier smirked and tightened his knees on Geralt’s hips, refusing to move.

“When you stop liking it.” Geralt said with a smirk, lightly swatting Jaskier’s hip.. “Judging by how easily that word slips between your lips these days, I’m guessing it’s not likely to happen any time soon.”

“I was terrified you were going to shove me off your lap in disgust the first time.” Jaskier admitted with a slow smile, kissing Geralt teasingly and running his hands over his chest. His fingers teased Geralt’s nipple, a spice-warm thumb and finger tugging gently. Geralt huffed out a laugh, his hands gripping Jaskier’s ass firmly and tugging him closer with a sharp jerk. 

“Not likely. Especially when you always sound so sweet when you say it.”

“It’s not sweet, it’s fucking filthy.” Jaskier smirked, rolling his hips again. 

“Sweet that you trust me enough to be filthy with me, then, isn’t it? My beautiful, dirty boy.”

“Oh fuck-” Jaskier’s words died in his throat at the dark, wicked-sweet tone of Geralt’s voice and the drag of their cocks moving together.

“Filthy, wicked little  _ brat _ -” Geralt purred appreciatively, nipping at Jaskier’s bottom lip with sharp teeth.

“Gods,  _ Geralt- _ ” Jaskier groaned low, rocking his hips and rutting his now eager prick against Geralt’s stomach.

“Get a hand on yourself. I want to see just how filthy you are. Make a mess all over me.” Geralt raised one eyebrow, lifting and settling Jaskier so that he straddled Geralt’s stomach. Geralt’s cock pressed firmly against the cleft of Jaskier’s ass.

“The balm, it’ll-”

“That’s what you get for not washing your hands when  _ Daddy  _ tells you to, isn’t it?” Geralt’s hand closed firmly around Jaskier’s wrist. “Tell me stop if you don’t want to play this game.” He murmured tenderly, the sharpness fading from his voice. “You know I love you.”

“Love you, love you, I don’t want to stop.” Jaskier managed, gasping sharply as Geralt guided his own slick hand to his cock, setting a slow rhythm. “Ah-  _ fuck- _ ”

“Tell me how it feels.” Geralt’s fingers covered Jaskier’s own, making Jaskier’s grip tighter and rougher.

“...warm, so warm- it-” Jaskier gritted out, squirming against Geralt’s hand and slick cockhead as it slid back and forth against him. “ _ Fuck-” _

“Sounds like you like it. Tell me more.” The Witcher’s voice was strict and sharp.

“-tingles, it’s- warm and-” Jaskier couldn’t find the words for the sensation, the heat just this side of painful. A warm, tingling, burning pleasure, that made him squirm and shift and try to push away from it even as he wanted  _ more _ .

“Burns?” Geralt suggested gently, his voice a pleased purr. “Is that why you didn’t want to wash it off?” 

“It feels good-” Jaskier managed to groan, although he wasn’t sure if he was speaking of Geralt’s sinfully dark tone, the rough hand clasping his own, or the balm.

"Does it? That heat you can't get away from, no matter how you squirm? You want to fuck yourself on your fingers so you can feel it  _ everywhere _ ?" That thought made Jaskier’s throat abruptly go dry. The one time they’d tried that, he’d been weeping by the end, frantically begging for relief and release.

"Fuck, not there but- fuck, faster, please-" Geralt, damn him, slowed his pace and lightened his grip, tugging on Jaskier’s wrist and forcing him to loosen his own fingers into nothing more than a slick tease.

"I think not. This  _ particular  _ lesson is about finishing what you start."

"I'll be good, I'll be so- so good-" Jaskier promised feverishly, bucking into the loose touch and groaning when Geralt’s hand tightened on his hip, forcing him still.

"You say that every time. I think you have a taste for being punished." Geralt’s tone grew fonder, almost indulgent as he guided Jaskier’s fingers over the slick head of his cock.

"Ah,  _ gods- _ " The burning heat was inescapable, everywhere, and combined with Geralt’s voice...

"You think I don't notice the sounds you make when I take you over my knee? That I can't smell you? Feel you rutting against my thigh?" 

"Geralt, Geralt  _ please,  _ I'm sorry-"

"What are you sorry for, darling boy?" 

"For-  _ fuck!  _ For not listening… Not...hf- finishing what I start-"

"And?"

"Not asking nicely?"

" _ And?" _

"And and and- oh _ gods- _ I can't, I can't, it's so warm, please-"

"Asking for one lesson when you wanted another?"

"Yesyesyes fuck I'm sorry,  _ please-" _

"There's my good little love. You're so sweet for me. Just showing me how much you like your lessons."

" _ Gods- _ "

"You don't have to be sorry."

" _ Please _ let me come,  _ please-" _

"Is it too much? Do you need something else?"

“Fuck me, please, fuck-”

“You’ll have to wait longer then.”

“I can wait. I- fuck- I can be patient-”

“Or I could make you come again and again. Not stop even when you’re sensitive and it’s almost too much,” Geralt murmured, an idle threat that made Jaskier’s flushed and sensitive cock jump in their shared grip.

“Ohfuck-”

“Which do you want? Too much, or not enough?” Jaskier panted for air, trembling all over. He groaned softly behind gritted teeth at being forced to wrap his needy brain around the choice. “Slow down. Breathe for me.” Jaskier took a slow, shuddering breath, and let it out carefully. He studied Geralt’s patient, pleased face, then bent forward to touch their foreheads together. Geralt’s hand cupped the back of his head, holding him there. “There you are. It’s all for you. No wrong choices.” 

“...not enough.” Jaskier managed to answer quietly, brushing his nose against Geralt’s. 

“Good lad. Get up and wash that off your hands and prick, and get the oil.” Geralt’s hands released him abruptly, and Jaskier managed to stand on shaking legs. His cock was tight against his stomach, and he could feel the pulse of his heart in it. 

“I don’t- I don’t think I can make it to the basin.” He admitted, face hot as he looked down at the floor.

“Do you want me to make you anyway?” Jaskier shuddered and abruptly grabbed the base of his cock, hard, fighting back his own release, his head tipped back.

“ _ Ah! _ Fuck, I...I can’t do that right now.” He choked out, his knees feeling weak.

“All right.” Geralt said, slipping off the bed with far more grace and steadiness. He wrapped Jaskier up in a tight hug, pressing a soft kiss to the top of his head. “All wound up, aren’t you?”

“Yes, yes, fuck, sorry- I’m-”

“Shhh. Nothing to apologize for.” Geralt murmured, his hands carding slowly through Jaskier’s hair. “Lie down, close your eyes. Don’t touch yourself. Breathe. I’ll be right there. Just getting a warm cloth and the oil.”

Jaskier stretched out on the bed, crossing his wrists above his head and letting his eyes fall closed. He focused on his breathing, inhaling for a count of four, holding the breath for a count of seven, and then slowly letting it out for a count of eight. It was a pattern that mimicked the rise and fall of Geralt’s chest in meditation. He could feel his thoughts calm, his pulse slow, the intense urgency of the pleasure fade into something warm and languid instead of frantic. When Geralt’s hand pressed against his forehead, he opened his eyes with a soft smile.

“Hello,” Jaskier said softly, looking up at Geralt’s face.

“Hello,” Geralt responded quietly, mouth quirking in amusement. “Better?”

“Much, thank you.” 

“Good. Let’s get this off you.” The cloth Geralt used to clean Jaskier’s hands and cock with was soft, damp, and very warm. As Geralt stroked it along the insides of his thighs, stomach, and eager prick Jaskier began to make low, heated sounds, rocking his hips up into the light, practical touch. “Still eager, mm?” 

“Please, please-” Jaskier breathed, letting his eyes open.

“Can you kneel up for me?” 

“...I think I can manage that.” Jaskier struggled up to his knees with a soft sigh, watching Geralt hungrily as he laid down and tugged the bard astride his hips again. His breath rushed out in a sharp huff as slick fingertips slid over the cleft of his ass. “ _ Oh. _ ”

“Mm. I’m going to show you how I like to be fucked. You’d do well to pay attention.”

“ _ Gods, _ Geralt-”

“I like two fingers to start.” He murmured against Jaskier’s lips, putting his words into action and pressing two slick fingers deep inside with little hesitation. Jaskier cried out softly at the intrusion, his breath coming faster. “Just like that. Enough to feel it. Anything less feels like a tease.” Jaskier’s skin heated as Geralt continued to work his fingers in and out, pressing in deep, spreading apart, and then withdrawing with his fingers spread wide. “I like being worked open like this.”

“Ah fuck, ah  _ gods _ -” 

“Shhh. Don’t come. Close your eyes. Pay attention.” Jaskier privately thought that last instruction was a bit unnecessary. There wasn’t anything else he  _ could _ focus on but the drag, slide, spread of Geralt’s thick fingers moving in and out of his body. Geralt rested just the tips of his fingers inside that sensitive ring of muscle, spreading Jaskier open and making him pant. “Don’t have to search for any particular spot, you’ll find it with your cock.” He twisted his fingers and Jaskier sobbed, hips rocking urgently. 

“I need, I need- please, please please please-”

“Mm.” That pleased, low hum went straight to Jaskier’s cock, accompanied by a pulse of wetness and his ass clenching around Geralt’s fingers. “Like that, do you?” The fingers withdrew, and Jaskier exhaled sharply, hoping finally,  _ finally- _ He bit back a needy whimper when those fingers, slick with even more oil returned. “You make sure to use plenty of oil with me. Like feeling slick all the way down to my thighs.” Jaskier could feel the warm oil trailing down the cleft of his ass, slicking him just the way Geralt murmured about. Those fingers spread wide again and he fell forward, braced on his hands on Geralt’s chest. “Sensitive, aren’t you?”

“Yes, yes-”

“Ready for my cock, little lark?” 

“ _ Geralt- _ ” 

“Ask nicely.” 

“...p-pretty...pretty please. Fuck me the way you- the way you want me to-” Geralt added a third finger, pressing deep and  _ up _ , and the only way to finish his sentence was with a sharp, wordless moan. 

“There you are.” Geralt’s fingers slid out, replaced by the press of his cock at Jaskier’s hole. “You don’t have to go slow and easy with me. I’m practiced. I like slow, but I like deep.” Geralt pressed forward, hilting him in one smooth motion that made Jaskier’s hands scrabble for his shoulders. Jaskier clung tightly as Geralt began to roll his hips in long, deep strokes, every motion sending tongues of flame licking over his body. “Just like that. Just like that.” Geralt murmured, setting a steady, unhurried pace.

All Jaskier could do was press his cheek against Geralt’s chest and make frantic, open mouthed sounds at each deep thrust. Geralt layered the pleasure the way he built a campfire - blazing tinder to catch, adding more carefully to build steady heat, and then banking the pleasure to coals that would burn as long as he wanted them to. It took Jaskier apart completely. He startled when Geralt’s hands eventually found his shoulders instead of his hips, guiding him back up and making him growl at the sudden, intense spike of pleasure at the new angle.

“I won’t need a hand on me, riding you like this,” Geralt added, his tone no longer academic and removed. His breath came faster, and there was a dark growl behind each of his words. “I could come on your cock with the right word.” His eyes were heavily lidded and dark as they studied Jaskier’s face, using his hands on Jaskier’s shoulders to drive in deeper and deeper.

“ _ Daddy- _ ” Jaskier snarled out, head thrown back, spine bowed.

“That’s not my word, but it’ll do-” He growled, snapping his hips sharply and flooding Jaskier with the warmth from his pleasure. Geralt’s hand gripped Jaskier’s cock and stroked roughly, once, twice. “Come.  _ Now. _ ” 

Jaskier could do nothing but obey with a low growl of his own, painting Geralt’s stomach and chest with his release as he shuddered and panted through his climax.

“Fuck, fuck-” Jaskier gasped, collapsing onto the mess on Geralt’s stomach with a breathless laugh. 

“Mm.” Geralt hummed in agreement, his hand slowly stroking over Jaskier’s hair and back. Jaskier lay there boneless, letting Geralt pet and gentle him until the mess pressed between them grew sticky and cool.

“...I really like your lessons,” Jaskier mumbled, pressing a sloppy kiss to Geralt’s throat.

“Do you? Couldn’t tell,” Geralt huffed out, his tone warm with laughter. “Gods, you’re going to be the death of me. Can’t deny you anything.”

“Just the way I like it.” Jaskier yawned hugely, rubbing his cheek against Geralt’s shoulder. “Suppose we should get a bath, hm?”

“Hm.” 

“A nice bath, with scented water. And a cup of hot mulled wine to go with.”

“Mm.”

“And supper.”

“Who’s going to be doing all this fetching and ordering, then?” Geralt asked mildly, fingers slowly tracing circles over Jaskier’s shoulder. "While you lay here all pleased and sated."  


“You, of course.” 

“Ah, of course. Spoiled brat.” Geralt's tone was fond as he sought Jaskier's mouth with his own for a languid kiss.  



End file.
